


Though Less, The Show Appear

by hallowgirl



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Cannot Spit It Out, Cross-Party Relationship, David Cannot Do Good Accents, Divorce, Everyone Is Useless With Emotions, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, In which everyone is confused about quite what they want, Kinda, M/M, Marital Problems, Rival Romance, Why can you people not talk to each other?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7127026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowgirl/pseuds/hallowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I love not less, though less the show appear</em>
  <br/>
  <em>That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming</em>
  <br/>
  <em> The owner's tongue doth publish everywhere</em>
  <br/>
  <em>-Sonnet 102, William Shakespeare</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first time Ed tells David he loves him, they're in the middle of an argument on the finer points of energy tariffs and neither of them realises he's said it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though Less, The Show Appear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> So, yes, this came about through the frequent pondering of Ed's probable reluctance to say "I love you" and also a deep and strange love for odd ways of navigating emotion. The title is from Sonnet 102. Leave a comment if you like it!

_My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;_

_I love not less, though less the show appear;_

_That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming_

_The owner's tongue doth publish everywhere_

_-Sonnet 102, William Shakespeare_

_I think up ciphers_

_to trace onto your skin_

_because it doesn't feel safe to just say I love you.- A Softer World, Emily Horne and Joey Comeau_

_*_

The first time Ed Miliband tells David Cameron, it's in the middle of an argument on the finer points of energy tariffs and neither of them realises he's said it.

It's an argument that they've had before and, like a lot of their arguments, that they'll have over and over again.

It's 2013 and Ed's still Miliband and he's got his arms folded and he shoots out something about "So much for hugging huskies" and David laughs, because he's found that annoys Miliband more than anything. "And so much for not wanting to be stuck in the past."

Miliband glowers at him and barks out something about _People freezing_ and _energy prices gone up_ and David blurts out something about _Why didn't you do something about it when you were energy secretary then?_

Because they have a habit, him and Miliband, of revisiting the same arguments over and over and dragging them out, almost as though they want to drag them out.

Miliband actually throws up his hands and David laughs harder, the sound splitting out of his throat at the way Miliband's eyes roll all the way up to the skies and back down again and the look of sheer exasperation painted in the knot of his brows and the jabbing of his finger and something about the exasperation is so typically- _Milibandy._

That's when Ed almost spits at him "God knows _why-"_ and he stares at David, his eyes suddenly wider. David feels the smile fade.

Then Ed turns away as quickly as he met David's eyes, his body whipping round into a familiar tension, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, the way it always does when he thinks he's said too much.

David will realise later he knows that about Miliband. He's not sure how.

His own hands move a little, as though to cross the room and take Miliband's shoulders. Of course, he doesn't.

Ed storms out a few moments later, his shoulders slumped. The argument niggles in David's chest for the next few hours until he finally gives in and calls Miliband and after a few exchanges, they agree a little awkwardly that they both went a little too far and that they shouldn't let the argument get in the way of cross-party consensus. Neither says but both think that they won't let it get in the way of their own consensus.

They talk a little longer. By the time they hang up the phone, David can hear Miliband smiling and knows he is too.

*

(That's the first time. That look, Miliband reaching to make David understand something, and just not fathoming how he couldn't, though neither of them come close to realising it then.)

(There are a lot of first times, before and after, across the dispatch box and across discussion tables, and on screens and in lines-but when his thoughts drift over it years later, that's one of the times David holds onto most often.)

*

The second time is when Ed thanks him, and it's too easy to forget.

It's after the headlines , the ones screaming about fathers and Britain and years-old hate. David doesn't expect Miliband to thank him and when Miliband gives him a phone call wrapped in formality, he expects that's all he'll get.

That's tolerable. He's become used to stealing glances -coaxing little flashes of _Ed_ out from behind the phone calls and discussion tables and formal signatures of _Miliband._

It's days later that they're sitting together, after haggling and discussing and reluctantly agreeing. David's exhausted from trying to make Miliband see the real world. Miliband looks exhausted from trying to make David see the same thing.

Or what he thinks is the same thing.

They've carved something out that Nick will sign off on, cramming three disjointed and fiercely rigid views together into something resembling flexibility. David tilts his head back and enjoys the moments in his office free of advisors and aides. For some reason, Miliband being there feels a part of that.

They're on the sofa, with Miliband at one end, David at the other. David offers him the plate of biscuits, which he keeps in the office because otherwise he'll get another lecture from Lynton and he can't take another use of the phrase "Pie-Minister" or George's continual and ebullient repetitions.

Miliband takes a Jaffa Cake and David says "I knew you'd do that."

Maybe that's when Miliband starts to say it, with the way the grin flickers up before he can remember who he's looking at.

Instead, he just shrugs and David thinks that's all it's going to be. Then, he reaches for the oatcake and Miliband's voice is quiet, eyes drifting out the window. "I knew you'd do that."

David feels the smile crawl out at his mouth and he looks away but casts a glance at Miliband out of the corner of his eyes. It takes three glances before he sees Miliband's cheek lift a little and the dimple crease his skin.

They both look when the other isn't looking. When they reach for the plate at the same time, there's something almost companionable in it.

They don't speak but Miliband's head falls back against the couch. David snatches a glimpse of the shadows under his eyes. He watches and then tilts his own head back, his eyes fluttering closed. He can feel the questions and debates and points quietening, sitting here with nothing to do for a snatch of a moment. He becomes aware of Miliband's breathing, which suddenly seems a little louder than usual, or maybe it's simply that David is paying more attention, or is allowed to pay attention.

"Thank you."

David looks at him slowly, eyes heavy. "What for?"

Miliband's eyes meet his then. They watch each other.

"For what you said." Miliband's eyes flicker closed. "About the Mail."

This is the closest Miliband will go to repeating what was said for now.

(David doesn't wonder how he knows. He's grown used to not letting himself wonder things.)

When he replies, he too, lets his eyes fall closed. "It's no trouble."

(It's easier to speak with their eyes closed. Sometimes, David wonders if they should hold whole discussions like this, entire debates, every argument they have.)

(They couldn't, of course. They don't know what they might say.)

"Thank you." Ed's voice is softer and David's hand moves, fingers curling into the cushion. His eyes open and he watches as Ed, eyes still closed, does the same.

(They do that a lot. )

(One will open their eyes to find the other looking away. One's hand will move in the shadow of the other's.)

( All the differences piling up between them until there are so many, they simply have no choice but to slip into some actions that stay the same.)

Neither of them speaks by silent consensus. David lets Ed eat the Jaffa Cakes and Ed lets him eat the oatcakes.

(After, whenever there's a plate of biscuits on a desk between them, David develops a sudden loathing of Jaffa Cakes and Ed suddenly can't seem to swallow even one oatcake.)

(Also by silent consensus.)

*

There are many, many times.

One that sticks out is the coat- VE day, in the shadow of victory and failure, biting until he doesn't know which is which-but there are times before and after, fanning out into the past and future, so many he almost forgets to count.

It's when Miliband glances up across the dispatch box at Cameron before their last PMQs, and then lets his eyes wander up to where Nancy and Elwen sit in the public gallery and gives them a grin. Cameron allows himself a small smile back, in the last few moments before they dive back into the politics of it all, the arguments that they pretend are conversation.

It's when tension slices into Ed's shoulders as his eyes meet Paxman's. The comment tossed out, the closest Paxman comes to casual, "I don't think he _gets_ the tube."

Ed's voice, a smile clinging to it but the words sharper, smaller- _That's rather unfair to him, I think._

His eyes widen a little, his mouth tightens.

It's a jab between David's ribs as he watches, a sharp whisper before he makes himself turn away, the words cracking out.

_He wants to think he's better, but he's no me._

Cameron tears his thoughts away to Samantha's hand on his shoulder and George's laughter, harsher than usual with relief.

(Some of it's him, too. It's when he turns to George, the words dragged out _-"You knew about this?"_ staring at a preview of the headline, Michael's words that are about to be splashed across the Times and every pair of eyes in Britain.)

( Lynton barking out _For God's sake, Cameron, I told you what to expect when you fucking put me in charge_ , David's own voice, harsher and shaking, shouting back _Too personal can go too bloody far.)_

(It makes them look personal, petty. It's bad for the Party, is all.)

It's also his voice, sharpening as he thanks Miliband for his views on Libya- _thank you for your courage in telling me this to my face_ - _personal and petty_ sharpened by lazy politics. (That's all it's sharpened by.)

And it's Miliband's head tilting to the side, his eyes flickering as Cameron waits for the _Let me be clear_ , for the soundbites and prepared lines that Miliband's fallen back on even as he swore he wouldn't.

It's Miliband suddenly looking at him, his eyes wider and the lines sliding away as Ed says _If I'd meant it, I'd have said it louder._

Cameron raises an eyebrow because he's fallen back on old tricks too.

Ed draws in a breath. "Da-"

He just starts to say it, but then he stops and they look away and when they look back again, the lines fall into place.

_Good luck, Cameron_.

_You too, Miliband_.

A handshake, a little too firm.

It's VE Day and he's won. Miliband's shivering and David watches. He should be able to walk away.

The door of Downing Street is there, solid with the promise of being his for as long as he wants it now, loud when he closes it on the sound of other parties crumbling under their own landslide of victory, cheers ringing in his ears ever since the room hummed with the silence before Dimbleby's voice and the sound of the clock striking ten.

Miliband's shivering and David should be able to walk away but it's colder than it should be for May.

He could reflect on how appropriate that is, but instead, he's taking his coat from an aide, the one that was pushed into his hands this morning by a beaming bright young thing, who seemed to struggle not to throw their arms around him, or their victory, or maybe both at once.

Miliband's shoulder trembles a little under his hand, and before he can turn, David is draping the coat around him, pulling it tight even as it hangs, too loose and ill-fitting on Miliband's frame.

(Miliband seems too skinny. He's always seemed too skinny. It's as though David's noticing it for the first time, now.)

Miliband doesn't move. Something about that scares David.

He starts to say something, something that sounds like _Sor-_ or _Miliba-_ or _Ed-_

But then his hand settles on Miliband's shoulder and neither of them moves.

Miliband stands very still and then he turns and looks. His eyes roam past David for a moment, back at the cameras and the people they're both about to turn back towards.

(They'll walk together for a few steps, then split away, diverging gently at first, then more sharply. The way they've done many times before but the symbolism will be glorious this time, worthy of headlines if anyone sees.)

Then Ed's eyes are on David's.

They're looking at each other. David wishes the cameras and people could surround them and recede altogether.

It's a few moments, Ed's eyes on his. David's fingers curl in, in something that's almost a squeeze.

"Thanks" is what Ed says, his voice much lower, his eyes almost wet but not quite. (Never quite.)

"You look cold" is what David replies, the words only just escaping before his mouth snaps shut on everything else.

They stand there. Ed's hand hovers, then wanders up to his shoulder as if he's not sure it belongs to him.

David's hand is still there. (He's not sure if this belongs to Ed either.)

Ed draws in a breath, a little sharper than usual, and twists towards David, an inch closer than usual, and David's eyes flicker closed, a little slower than usual.

They both open their eyes and watch each other. David's hand is still there, unwieldy and clumsy. A little more himself than usual.

"We should go back."

"Yes."

They stand for another moment. When David's hand falls from his shoulder, their arms brush together with neither of them quite not realising.

That's the third time Miliband says it. One of the many third times and David notices, a brief glimpse of noticing in amongst all the other things he should be seeing that day as they head back inside, Ed not shivering at all.

*

David loses count a little. The times get tangled up, criss-crossing each other. The images slide into one another, from right after and years before.

There's the moment he first sees Miliband after, sitting alone in the Portcullis canteen and David stops because Miliband's _there._ Right _there_ , with his skin a little more tanned than usual and his frame a little thinner and David nearly stops because Miliband's _there._

After days of not being there and so being firmly banished to the periphery of David's thoughts-

(Firmly. Not successfully)

he's actually there again, and David doesn't know if he should feel as relieved as he does.

(He doesn't know if he should _feel;_ that's the gist of it around Miliband)

Miliband tells him again when his eyes widen as they meet David's and his mouth quirks and trembles as if it doesn't know whether it wants to smile or not.

Miliband tells him again but David doesn't know if he knows that Miliband has told him again and he doesn't let himself wonder about it.

It's too easy to just walk a little too fast back to his office and not realise until he gets there that he's completely forgotten the sandwich he went down for.

(That's probably another way Miliband has of telling him, too.)

There's others, some of them memories. Watching Miliband on the news after Corbyn snatches the leadership, David's mind suddenly grasping that first conversation, fingers sinking into the moment nearly five years ago-the dialling of a number and the click at the end of the line and a voice, _H-hello, this is Ed Miliband,_ and he'd nearly laughed. Nearly.

George grabs his arm and shows him some article about Miliband's latest thoughts on Corbyn and it might be the Mail but it's hilarious and so when he sees Miliband again, he shoots out a line about it, with a grin and a wink. When he grabs hold of Miliband's roll of the eyes, it feels as though David's just pushed open his front door and walked through it for the first time in years.

It's Miliband who asks if David's judgement has really descended so low as reading the Mail and it occurs to David that Miliband's the only person in the world who could make that line sound affectionate.

(Miliband might tell him then. He tries to keep it as _might,_ in his head, but Ed did tell him then, really. In the way he rolled his eyes and the smile that tickled it's way out at the corners of his mouth and the way he tilted his head to the side as he took David in, just smiling.)

(Like when he stood across the Commons and David hadn't really smiled the whole day, not since they'd heard of the death of Lady Thatcher really, because she was power and talent and greatness in a way that some people are happy to savage and rip into pieces-but then Miliband's eyes had met his and that line had been sliding teasingly out of his mouth "Long before someone thought of hugging a husky-" and David had been laughing before he'd realised it, Ed's eyes glittering at him and those creases in his cheeks deepening at the sight of David's own.)

(David had smiled a while longer before he'd realised he was smiling.)

Miliband's looking at him now the same way he was then. David thinks it before he can stop himself, that Miliband's eyes and mouth and eyebrows and smile all bend and twist together to write the word _fond_ on his face.

David remembers the first time they talked after the election-just a couple of lines, almost falling over each other _-How are, I'm fi-, how are the ki-_

It had been as they were about to walk away, both of them trying not to trip over the awkwardness of bumping into each other, trying not to panic at the insistency of their own smiles, when Ed had said "I-"

And David had stopped and Ed had just watched him, words trapped between them.

And then Ed had said "Doesn't matter."

Miliband had told him, then, but that smile had still been there and so had that panic and so David had turned away, still grinning, heart pounding and _fond_ written on his own face, he knew without looking.

*

When he and Sam are quietly crumbling away from each other is another time Miliband tells him.

He counts himself lucky. The way it happens is the gentle, horribly amiable way it happens with lots of couples their age. He cancels dinner more often than they eat together. Her eyes are closed when he lays his head on the pillow. Their smiles together grow sadder and older.

When they agree to stay friends for the sake of the kids, David knows it won't be hard at all.

Miliband's marriage crumbling might have started that way too. Something about it doesn't seem so gentle.

They run into each other .They both know it's deliberate. But there's the climate change agreements and they always pull that between them, debating over phrasing or words or policy when one of them thinks they're looking at each other too much.

(The other is thankful and disappointed and never let themselves feel either.)

(Or at least, David wouldn't, but he's started to wonder if he feels it anyway. If what he wants really makes a difference, anyway.)

Miliband's wedding ring appears less and less often. In that little-too-long, drawn-out space between Syria and Christmas when the days are punctuated by protests and headlines, David asks him about it, stupidly, and Miliband covers his hand as if he's been stung.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. It's a question."

"I know it's a question. Why are you asking it?"

"Aren't you the expert on asking questions-" but Ed's pale and still and that's not going to work.

"I'm only asking you."

"Well, there's nothing to ask."

It's not an answer and they both know it. Any other moment, David would love a chance to scream hypocrisy but this time he doesn't and maybe that's his way of telling Miliband, too.

(In the Syria debate, looking up after what must have been the fifth call to apologise, and seeing Ed slap a hand over his eyes, the laughter wringing at his chest so he had to bite his lip and look down. Ed's eyes had found his, peering over his fingers and he'd looked so exasperated and David had felt it like an itch in his chest, a soft punch the opposite of pain.)

(That was another time Ed told David. Both of them would like to think they didn't even realise it.)

*

They've always spent time together. It's a strange or not so strange aspect, having to spend copious amounts of time with the person you are hoping to crush into irrelevance, ignominy or both. But it wasn't just that.

There'd be a party or a conversation or a gathering with people from all sides there and somehow, David would realise he'd ended up, nearly always, with Miliband.

Sometimes, he couldn't even remember how the conversations started. Then he'd realise that he hadn't paid attention because something about knowing Miliband would probably disagree with him on everything anyway allowed him to just speak without measuring his words beforehand.

When they didn't disagree, on anything aside from politics, it was perhaps even stranger. That happened more often than David would have liked, back then, unfortunately

(he tried very hard to think it was unfortunately)

(as George loves to point out and Samantha too, especially these days)

so he could find himself laughing with Miliband, sometimes laying a hand on his arm, even though Miliband had a tendency to freeze up when someone touched him or grabbed him unexpectedly-

but he always let David.

(That was another way. David would never have noticed it at the time.)

*

Now they're spending more together, before they've even noticed.

It's simple to say it starts over the climate change thing and some discussions on Europe. It's easy to say a few lines over the signing of documents.

_How have you been?_

_That speech was pretty impressive._

_What, for me?_

_No, just impressive._

Sometimes, they stretch out a little.

_How is it, living alone?_

_Shouldn't I be asking you that?_

_It's Downing Street, Miliband-one's never really alone-_

_The tact isn't working well, Prime Minister-_

_Really. How is it?_

_...Harder than I thought._

_Yes. Yes, I know._

It's natural for it to extend a little, the way their conversations always did.

Now that neither of them have someone they have to get back to, they can last longer. They end up in the Portcullis bar, David clutching a white wine, Miliband holding a Diet Coke. Somehow, their conversations can wind away from failed relationships and politics.

It's then that Miliband tells him again, when he takes David's wrist and says "You've had enough now, Prime Minister" with a grin when David's words get looser and louder.

David isn't sure if Ed told him that time. When he wakes up the next day with his head throbbing a little, he doesn't remember it properly, he tells himself.

Miliband tells him when he takes in a breath and says "I-um-sometimes, it's har-" and then shakes his head and says "Doesn't matter."

David wants to ask too many questions. Instead he just touches Ed's arm before he can stop which might be his way of telling Ed too.

Miliband tells him again when Iain resigns. David's panicking and Miliband is no help, just keeps staring at him like he's some kind of monster and when David asks him exactly what that look is meant to mean, Miliband almost explodes, almost barking at him.

_What did you think people were going to do? How do you think people will react when you suggest something like-_

_We're not even going ahead with the fucking cuts-_

_That doesn't make it bloody better-_

Miliband had told him with his hands almost clenched and his brows knitted, his mouth twisted as he almost spat out _Why can't you ever just listen?_

They stare at each other for long enough that Miliband's eyes widen a little and there's something else there twining itself with anger, something almost _despairing_ and then Ed's shoulders just slump a little and he looks _crushed._

That's another time Miliband tells him.

It's again a few days later when David says to him _Look, I was wrong, we've said so_ -

Miliband just looks at him and says _Sometimes, you don't see-_

He trails off and then a moment later shakes his head and says _You don't see_ but there's something sadder in his voice this time which makes David feel worse.

He doesn't know if they've fixed things or not. A few days later Ed tells him again by remarking, as they're bent over a desk, "Your government may not be entirely a satire."

_Your government may not be entirely a satire_ might be one of the best things David has ever heard.

*

Miliband tells him years ago, when they're sitting next to each other for Suu Kyi's speech and her eyes fall on them as she says _There is certainly no heckling_ and his hand fastens around Miliband's wrist because-

He's sure there must have been a reason.

But his hand is around Miliband's wrist. Miliband's eyes fly open a little wider, even as they laugh.

Then he flails, as if he wants to-

David likes to think as if he wants to return the gesture, but Miliband's hand brushes his leg accidentally. He can tell it's accidental because Miliband's eyes dart and he blushes and then gives David a nervous, awkward look, as if David's about to push him away.

David doesn't. Miliband doesn't move any closer but he doesn't move any further away, either.

*

Ed Miliband tells David Cameron when he laughs as he says "Let me thank the Prime Minister for quoting and indeed implementing parts of the 2015 Labour manifesto." Their eyes meet and it's like it was a few months ago but stripped bare of venom and jolted firmly onto the same side.

Ed Miliband nods over and over as David Cameron speaks.

David Cameron watches Ed Miliband smile again and notices it's the first time he's smiled properly today, ever since that QC ceremony this morning where he and Justine both smiled too wide.

He noticed that each held a son too carefully. He noticed each too carefully avoid touching each other.

David Cameron notices that he notices.

*

Europe is another thing that brings their discussions together and their campaigns together, and so, perhaps inevitably, brings them together.

They go to Scotland. It's not like last time, when a distance with barbs shot through was kept between them and the silence was kept between them, even away from the cameras.

The fact Ed comes with him, even staying out of sight, David realises in a sudden burst of clarity (which shouldn't have taken as long as it did but was always going to) alone in his hotel room, after _banners_ and _alliances_ and _SNP_ , is Ed telling him.

In the evenings, they find themselves together. It's the way they both dare themselves to try the haggis. David waits, almost grinning, until Ed's brow furrows, his mouth puckering. David bursts out laughing and admits he's tried it before, and Ed's look screams wide-eyed indignation and a treacherous grin and his hand's hitting David's arm in a way that makes David want to laugh and laugh and perhaps not stop.

Ed tells him when he meets him after the speech where David attempted what he knows is an awful accent. Ed opens his mouth and then just shakes his head, laughter spluttering out.

Ed tells him when they get fish and chips and end up walking, the protection team a far enough distance behind that David can pretend he forgets about them. He's watching Ed eat, salt and grease coating his fingers, shivering a little under the Scottish night. David could give him his coat again, and though he doesn't know it, Ed's thinking about it.

They end up sitting on a bench together, looking out over the blackness of the North Sea under the night. Ed tells him when he reaches out and steals a few of David's chips.

(His fingers are so long. David always noticed when he used them to point or jab into the air.)

It's so cold. David slides a few inches closer to Ed and Ed doesn't move away,

David hasn't been drinking but his voice is oddly a little too loud when he looks out over the water and says "I'd understand if you hated me."

Ed tells him by not exclaiming or jumping away from him and waiting a moment during which they both look out into the darkness and think about that day with the coat and feel their way through their next words.

"I don't" Ed says, and he's telling him. David can feel it in the colour rising in his cheeks and the way his hand suddenly wants to move just a bit, just one move, and those fingers and that hand-

(David doesn't quite realise what he's telling him yet.)

"It's all right if you did."

"I didn't."

"I'd understand."

"Considerate of you, Prime Minister.

"You know what I-"

"I know. I didn't."

"Did you hate that I'd won?"

The question, stupid and fumbling in the dark, the way David never is.

Ed's smile, a quick peek of teeth, the heat of his leg an inch away, like how his words hover, ringing in David's chest.

"Of course I hated you'd won." And that's telling him too, that Ed says it.

"I didn't hate you" Ed says again, almost casually, but the air's tautened and David can feel his heart thudding with what could be told.

They hover there, both of them daring themselves again. David moves a little and Ed breathes himself a little closer and then their legs press themselves together for a few dizzying seconds. Ed tells him again when he doesn't apologise.

*

Ed tells him when he says he understands.

_..I understand...it must be terribly upsetting for him and his mum..._

This time, David knows he's been told something. He's in the middle of tax and protests and another holiday he's left too early but it's horribly easy to be an absentee father with things as they are now.

Ed turns up without him asking and immediately asks if David wants him to leave and David says no too quickly.

Ed listens as David says nothing and then lets David say not enough. If David thinks back at all, he remembers Ed, in a different year in the same office, with similar headlines and similar disjointed phrases pushing their way out of his mouth.

At one point, David looks up and there's a cup of tea and a glass of orange juice sitting there. David blinks, unable to remember asking for either.

"You might be thirsty" is all Ed says, from where he's leaning on the arm of the couch. Then, a little more hesitantly, "Orange juice is a good source of Vitamin C. I checked, it can help give a boost of-of endorphins."

His eyes awkwardly hover somewhere across the room as he says this. That's him telling David.

(David knows Ed would never bother to check for his own health.)

Ed's told him. David can feel it even as he thanks Ed. Even as Ed touches his shoulder, just for a moment, as if daring himself.

*

Ed tells him

(in a way, first tells him)

a few days after.

They're sitting on a couch in David's office, just side by side, discussing some intricate detail of a Europe speech, when Ed says "Sometimes, I don't understand-" and then breaks off.

David frowns, but "What don't-"

"This. You-I mean, we've-" Ed's hand out, fingers unfurling. "It doesn't trickle down. It doesn't."

"I never said it trickles down-"

"I know but-you do." Ed's getting up, pacing back and forth, one hand rubbing away at the back of his neck. "You do-I mean, you don't say it, but it's what it means, the things you say-"

"What, wanting people to aspire to be better-" David's feelings fraying because he doesn't want this right now, and because he's telling the truth because he knows it's not any kind of gift to get overly attached to ideology.

(He can detach, shaking away the ideas, feelings, thoughts, until all there is are words and figures and a good, strong statement.)

(Ed attaches. Attaches fiercely, ideology sinking its' claws into his skin, marking and branding his flesh with gashes and scars of good intentions.)

(It's why him and Corbyn together are the stuff of the Tories' sweetest dreams, and the wildest nightmare for Labour. David loves it, but that's not the point.)

"It's not about that-it's not about aspiring, it's about-there's no fairness and people can get away with-" Ed's hands flying about, eyes widening.

"Everyone can lower their taxes, everyone would _want_ to-"

"But-it's-these are people who are- _should_ be paying more-" Ed's hands thrown up, turning away a little. "They can afford to-"

"So they should aspire to be wealthy and then have half their earnings taken away-"

"Not half and people want to help-they-they-"

"What-people _want-"_ David's voice is quieter now. "Is to aspire. Do well for themselves. Aspiration's better than altruism, Miliband."

Ed just looks at him, almost despairing, and then blurts out "You don't _see-"_

"No, you don't."

Ed looks and draws deep breaths. Then, shoulders lifting, "Why can't you see it's a problem?"

"Why can't _you?"_ slides out like a schoolchild.

Then, too quickly "And additionally, why are you so keen on this now-"

"Because you're _not-"_ Ed's words almost shouted. "You're not-you can be-you could be-you-"

He makes a desperate, impatient sound, walks away a few steps, then back.

"The thing is-" turning to David-"You can't just-I can't-"

"What thing?" David's standing now, his heart throwing itself a little faster against his ribs.

Then, suddenly, "What do you mean, you-"

He doesn't finish. But Ed is looking at him, cheeks flushed, eyes big and dark, his chest rising and falling.

"The thing-"

"Yes, the thing-"

"The thing-" Ed stutters for a moment, but then his eyes grab onto David's, both of them stepping closer.

"Yes, the thing, it, yes-"

"The thing-the thing-" Ed looks almost despairing and then "The-the thing-the thing is-I-" and then his head tilts and his mouth is falling up and into David's, David's hands finding purchase before he knew they needed it on Ed's jaw.

That's when Ed tells him-before the gabbled apologies and Ed's eyes roaming frantically about, half-turning away- _I'm s-so sorry-_

David tells him when he says too quickly _Ed-wait-Ed, please-_

Ed tells him again when he steps away and then slowly turns back to David, his eyes darker now.

But he tells him in that moment when his mouth opens against David's and he lets David's hands clutch at his jaw and then slide into Ed's hair, fingers holding tightly and he tells him with the press of hands into David's face.

*

Ed tells him when he storms out of David's office after he bursts inside after PMQs, demanding to speak to him.

(The fact Ed has chosen to do this, without even asking, the way he almost throws the door open, tells David.)

He tells him in the way their voices rise and clash together.

_Thought you were fucking better than that-_

_Oh, for Christ's sake, don't tell me you've never thought it about him-_

_No, I haven't and neither have you and neither has Zac-_

_How do you know what Zac thinks-_

_You know this is Crosby politics, you know that-_

_Crosby_ hovering between them, ringing of victory, dredging up defeat.

_Crosby politics can help to win-_ cruelty clinging to the words- _or should we stand aside for Corbyn's man-_

_He's not Corbyn's man-_

_He's as bloody good as-_

_It's fucking racism!_

The word unforgivably loud in the room between them.

_That's a pretty bloody serious accusation, Miliband-_

Miliband again (which is even more ironic after a few days of awkward _What are we doing?_ and mouths tilting to each other's nervously, not quite as deep as either of them want-)

_Yes, and it shouldn't-it's Zac, you know he doesn't mean it, and that's the-how the hell can you justify this, how can you-God, twist this, do all these-_ Ed's eyes almost pleading- _Performing bloody gymnastics to tell yourself-_

_Zac wants to win and we want to-_

Trails off at the sight of the look on Ed's face.

_That's it? That's what makes it worth it-_

_Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same thing._

The words, spat out, edged with cruelty he remembers from their days of standing across the chamber.

Ed just watches him, his eyes too wide, and he's shaking. His mouth opens and then closes and he says _I can't-I can't-_

_Ed-_

It comes out harsh, angry.

Ed tells him when his eyes meet David's over his shoulder, huge and dark and accusing. _Fuck you._

David waits until he's stormed out again and then slams his fist into his desk (his desk where hesitantly, he tilted Ed's face in his hands and kissed him softly and then again and then again, their foreheads pressing together like they were trying to climb into each other.)

*

Ed tells him again two days later when he turns up at Downing Street requesting to see the Prime Minister, at urgent notice.

David says "I thought you were staying in Doncaster."

(He'd sent Ed messages today. He hadn't expected a reply.)

Ed barely says anything until they're inside. Then he paces, hand at his neck, until he says _Is that really how you see things?_

_Is this another lecture?_ and then Ed spins round and says _How can you-_

_Is that how you see things?_ he manages and then David shrugs. _What do you want me to say?_

_The truth._

_It's not entirely how I see things, no._

Ed throws his hands up and then says _How can you-_

And then he looks straight at David and says _That must be miserable._

_Are you miserable?_ he asks a few moments later and David shrugs. _Not particularly._

Ed looks at him, face inscrutable for a few seconds, and then says _You can't be like that._

_Like what?_

Ed shakes his head, mutters something like _God_ , and then _It's like you don't see._

After a few moments, Ed turns to him and says _I mean, you don't-you're not a-that's what Sadiq said, that you're not a-_

And then he turns round, manages _I don't know why I care._

That's when David knows it will be all right, even when Ed says _We're not OK_.

And then again.

_Not yet, we're not._

It's a few days later that Ed first touches his shoulder again.

A week after that that Ed's mouth tentatively brushes a soft kiss to David's cheek.

(By then, David's made as much noise as he can about Corbyn and anti-semitism and for once he's found himself on the same side as Sadiq.)

(From then on, he sticks to _Khan is Corbyn's man_ tactics but the others don't change. He knows Ed isn't much happier with it but he already knows there's going to be a lot they're not happy about.)

(Sadiq winning should be one of them.)

(Though he's not really Corbyn's man, as David's always known, and so it's a better scalp for them than it should be.)

(David says sorry a few weeks later but he thinks Ed's asleep when he says it.)

*

The way Ed continues to tell him are when he takes David's hand for a moment when they're alone in his office and the way that the first time David eats at his house when Ed's staying there, they order takeaway and Ed tells him later on that he was worried about getting the food wrong and the tenderness swells in David's chest, lets his hand linger on Ed's hair and Ed doesn't push him away.

It's again through silent consensus that they continue to spend time with their wives even though it might be in all but name now.

David takes Sam out one night and she seems to know before he even says he might be seeing someone.

She doesn't blink when he says it's another man, and he realises he's been worrying about it.

Ed tells Justine alone. She takes some time but the fact he tells her at all is his way of telling David.

(She didn't blink when he told her it was a man, either.)

They still see their wives, David more often than Ed, and Sam asks a little about Ed from time to time. David always waits for her to bring it up but he always smiles when she does.

Ed tells him again the first time that Ed walks into his office a little early and George is still there and when David leaves his hand hovering innocently as he always does, Ed slips his hand in, fingers braiding between David's.

George, insultingly, doesn't look nearly as surprised as he should.

*

It's the way Ed stares, head cocked to one side, before he tells David that watching films with him is rather interesting and means it wholeheartedly and the way that the first time they go for a walk together in the woodland, with the protection team lingering as far behind as David can persuade them to go, in the middle of Ed's constituency, it's Ed who slides his hand into David's and says, too stiffly, _I'm glad you're here._

David presses a kiss into his hair.

Their kisses are something else that become deeper, that Ed's almost awkward about at first, and he tells David by the way he always starts a little shyly, and then slowly his hands press deeper into David's hair, his mouth pressing itself more urgently into David's own, the way he starts to let slip frantic little sounds, David's hands moving down his back and his chest, so they're both gasping for breath.

He tells him whenever he takes David's hand first or pulls him into a kiss, fingers curling into David's hair. Another way is when he lets David press kisses all over his skin, kissing the exact line of Ed's jaw, right under his eyes, all over his forehead, their noses rubbing together.

It's when Ed's face creases in laughter and his arms fall a little carelessly round David's shoulders.

*

Ed tells him when they begin letting the kids spend time together. They already know each other and Flo and Daniel and Sam are too little to pick up on it. All they know is their daddies are letting them play together and there are ice creams and Flo is the same age as Sam but two months older and that's funny.

Nancy and Elwen, of course, pick up on more.

It's Elwen who's still young enough to ask Ed one day, when they're drinking milkshakes in a cafe (with press embargoed and protection teams hovering and somehow just the seven of them in the middle, as close to just the seven of them as they can get, for now) "Are you and Dad boyfriends?"

Sam just giggles and carries on blowing into his milkshake through his straw. Nancy stares at them both. Flo asks "What's a boyfriend?"

"A boy and a boy who are friends" says Daniel helpfully. "Like I'm your boyfriend."

"No you're not" David and Ed both say at once and then they look at each other and then back at the children.

(Another time they'd smile that they both said it at once.)

David swallows and looks from each of their faces until finally he reaches Ed's and raises an eyebrow: _Your call._

It's Ed who says "Yes" and David feels the smile almost split his face in two.

There's a long moment of silence from the two elder children. The three younger promptly become embroiled in a battle of blowing into milkshakes.

Then Elwen says "OK. That's-"

He falls silent, as if asking himself whether or not it is, in fact, OK.

David's already saying, too quickly"Are you su-" when Nancy abruptly gets up, pushes back her chair and walks out of the cafe.

"Nanc-" David's already getting up when Ed says "No, I'll go" and touches his shoulder.

That's another way Ed tells him, though at the time David doesn't really realise it.

When they head outside later, with Flo still asking what a boyfriend is and David trying to explain to her, with occasional helpful explanations from Daniel, he spots his eldest daughter sitting on a bench, next to his boyfriend, who appears to be currently demonstrating the intricacies of a Rubix Cube to her.

He doesn't approach them yet. He waits at a distance, with a hand on Elwen's shoulder and a longer explanation to come later.

After what seems like forever, Nancy looks up and gives Ed something approximating a smile.

It's not fixed yet, but it will be.

(He finds himself in the next few weeks, making sure to take Nancy out for milkshakes alone too, and Elwen sometimes. They talk quietly, and he keeps asking, if she's sure, if they're both sure. That he'll stop it if they want.)

(He needs them to know that he'd stop.)

(Neither of them ask him to stop and a couple of times Nancy asks questions, her mouth puckering and her hair trapped between her fingers, but neither of them ask him to stop.)

(A couple of weeks later, Nancy leans against Ed until he puts an arm around her shoulder. Elwen challenges him to an arm wrestle and Ed gamely loses.)

(Another way of telling him.)

*

Ed tells him by making it normal for him to take David's hand when they're sitting next to each other on the couch and automatically reaching into David's packet of crisps and when the referendum seems to take too long, handing over a glass of orange juice with the now familiar reminder about vitamins and health.

He tells him one night when David's brain is aching with _blues-on-blues_ and talks of coups that will lead nowhere and with a referendum that's never over and he's about to move into the spare room. Ed tells him by standing still, staring at the pillow as though not really seeing it, and then saying, carefully avoiding David's gaze "You could always sleep in here."

Ed tells him in the warm dark, their breathing suddenly the loudest sound in the room, until one moves closer and then the other and then again until David's hand slips onto Ed's shoulder and then further down his chest, holding him.

He tells him in the morning after a night spent under the same duvet , alternately sleeping and occasionally opening one's eyes to check the other is still there. Ed tells him by letting David wrap his arms round him, and wriggles closer, his hair a complete mess.

That's when David mumbles "Love you" into his shoulder.

Ed tells him by going still.

He turns round, takes David's chin between his fingers. "You know-um-you know I-"

His eyes close, his breathing fluttering a little. "I want to-I just-um-"

David waits, heart thudding.

"It's-you know I-I don't not-I-" Ed looks at him rather urgently. "I-I don't not-I just-I can't-I-you know I d-"

He looks at David. "You know."

He does know.

David nods and when Ed stares with wide, dark eyes, and almost bites his lip (almost, but not quite), David slides his arms around him. Ed tenses for a moment, all waiting and pursed mouth, and then nestles in.

It's enough for now.

(The same way David whispering _sorry_ when Ed sleeps has to be enough, sometimes.)

*

It's when David's kissing him and pulling his shirt off that Ed tells him with little sighs and moans and arches of his back, by not turning his face away when David nuzzles the spot just under Ed's ear and Ed makes a strangled, aroused sound and says _David, David, please._

Ed tells him by kissing him back, pressing their skin together, his hands ghosting David's shoulders over and over again and his thumbs circling David's hips, by the way his head tips back and his eyes roll a little when David slides his hand lower, coaxing at him gently.

He tells him by whimpering when David makes everything as slow as possible, until both of them are struggling to breathe through the heavy haze of wanting and when David moves both their hands slowly, the frantic incoherent sounds Ed makes in his throat, all the figures and control and dignity he clings to shattering into little shards, spiralling under David's hands.

He tells him when he tenses, "D-David-" shuddering out of his mouth, and then cries out, shuddering against David's chest, his whole body arching, his eyes wide, mouth open and wet and gasping David's name, a small series of ecstatic sounds, into his neck, and then letting David rake his hands through his hair, murmur how much he loves him into his chest, and for once Ed not contradicting any of it.

He tells him by David slowly dragging himself to the surface of a warm doze to feel Ed's fingers tracing his arm slowly, over and over. He doesn't open his eyes but lets himself drift under the sensation of Ed's hand stroking his arm and then down his spine, the other hand stroking David's hair gently.

He thinks he hears Ed breathe his name a couple of times, but he doesn't open his eyes. Instead, he just wriggles closer. He feels Ed tell him again, one arm sliding around David's shoulders, one hand covering David's heart.

*

The first time Ed Miliband tells David Cameron he loves him is a few weeks before the referendum when they've got a rare afternoon to themselves.

They're sitting on the couch, an old Western on because it's David's turn to choose. The kids are coming that evening. Ed's hand has braided itself into David's. David's head is lying against Ed's shoulder.

David's watching the movie, when he notices out of the corner of his eye that Ed looks at him, looks away, looks at him, looks away.

Eventually, he cocks his own head and starts to say "What?"

He starts but then Ed says "David-" and then clears his throat, nods to himself as if having repeated the line to himself over and over in his head. (He has, but David doesn't know that.)

Ed gives David's hand a squeeze and then, with his gaze firmly fixed on the television screen, says, far too fast, "David, I love you."

He squeezes David's hand again, and then folds his arms, turning his head to stare in the opposite direction, blushing so fiercely that it's almost a cause for concern.

David stares at him, then reaches out, pauses the film. Ed glowers, as is his wont when he's this wordlessly embarrassed.

David has to bite back a smile and try to suppress the insane happiness rioting out of control under his ribs. It's nigh impossible.

"Darling?"

Ed bites his lip but doesn't look round.

David presses a kiss to his cheek.

"I love you, too."

It takes a few moments before Ed manages to turn. He tells David again by threading his fingers together awkwardly and managing," I-um-I do, I just-well, I thought you might want to know and-"

He doesn't finish the sentence because David lets his mouth fall into Ed's and tells him he loves him by his mouth and his hands, kisses burying themselves in Ed's neck.

They don't finish the film. Ed tells him he loves him a few more times that afternoon.

(None of them contain the words _I love you.)_

(David doesn't care.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ed and David were indeed apparently in Scotland together over a weekend a couple of months ago and that makes me truly happy, because I am rather pathetic. Also, you can find Ed's Maggie tribute here :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3wG3ioN9zkI (with his hugging the husky comment at 16:59) and his rather happy expression at hearing Cameron's implementing at some of his manifesto here, in the comments over Cameron's EU negotiation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGHiBjiFkas . And here's David's attempt at an accent, which is truly terrible and must be heard by all: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WkE2u6GC2Q
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it :)


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